


Dancing In The Moonlight

by TheTyphonSerpent



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Cinderella AU, Fenders, M/M, Wintersend Exchange, don't think about this one too hard, fendersassoc, wintersend 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTyphonSerpent/pseuds/TheTyphonSerpent
Summary: Cinderella AU. Anders, a poor apostate farmboy living under the tyrannical thumb of his templar stepmother, has his shoe snatched by a passing eagle. The eagle carries the sandal far north, and drops it in front of a rebellious Tevinter prince. Thus begins a journey of romance, betrayal, adventure, and true love. For Wintersend 2018.





	Dancing In The Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoatBazaarofFics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoatBazaarofFics/gifts).



> This was for the Fendersassoc Wintersend gift exchange. My giftee wanted a Cinderella AU and here it is, I hope I did well!

Cullen and Alistair were sparring outside the manor when Meredith screeched, “It’s BURNT! You can’t eat it if it’s burnt. Get it out of my sight! Feed it to the pigs you worthless cur!”

They both froze, Alistair’s shield up and Cullen’s wooden sword raised to strike. Both glanced back to the manor to see Anders stumbling out through the kitchen door, a loaf of bread cradled under one arm. Meredith appeared a few seconds later, leaning out the door frame to shout, “Alistair! Come here!”

The pair lowered their training weapons, Alistair left his sword and shield leaned up against the manor wall and headed her way without a word. Anders was already wading through the muck to get to the pig’s pen.

Anders tore off a chunk of bread and tossed it into the feeding trough, summoning a round pink hog from where he had been napping in the sun. Its curly tail wagged as it scarfed down its treat, then looked up expectantly while Anders tore off a second piece.

Coming up behind him, Cullen said, “It doesn’t look burnt to me.”

Anders jumped, swiveling around to meet his step brother. Cullen cocked an eyebrow, then nodded at the loaf in his hand.

“It … she insisted she could smell the burning. I told it was because cake batter had boiled over and the oven was still burning it off but … well you know how she is.”

The smile quickly faded from Cullens’ face. “Yes … unfortunately.”

Anders tore off another chunk of bread and threw it into the trough. The sun shined down on both of them, lighting their blonde manes ablaze and making even Cullen’s dented and mud-caked practice armor glimmer. An eagle screeched overhead, and Cullen covered his eyes to get a look at it.

“Shit.” Cullen whispered.

“Oh no!” Anders dropped the remains of the loaf of bread into the mud, “Is Pounce indoors?”

“You look for Pounce, I’ll check on the chickens.”

They split in opposite directions. Cullen’s boots made loud splats in the muck. Anders took two steps with mud squelching between his toes before he looked down and realized his left foot was bare. Another screech had his eyes on the sky. The eagle was swooping, a blue glint in its eye. It was all he could do to duck, covering his head. In an instant, the eagle sank it’s claws into the mud, and then surged back into the sky with Anders’ sandal in grasped in it’s talons.

He stared back at the bird, jaw agape as he could _swear_ the eagle was looking back at him with glowing blue eyes.

Cullen was already running. “Anders! Are you alright?” He asked as he came to a halt.

“Was that bird _possessed_?”

“What?”

“I thought I saw ...” He trailed off. It hardly mattered. Demon or not, it had still made off with his sandal and not any of the farm animals. He looked down at his bare foot and sighed, “Rotten bird. These were my last shoes that didn’t have holes in them.”

Cullen half-laughed, half-sighed, and wiped a sheen of sweat off his forehead, “Tell you what, I’m going into town next week to apply for a guard position. While I’m there, I’ll buy you a new pair of shoes.”

Anders ran his fingers through his hair and gathered it into a ponytail. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. If she found out-”

“If Mother asks,” Cullen interrupted, “I’ll tell her I bought them for myself and they were the wrong size.”

The words turned Anders’ blush into a smile. “You’re a good brother, Cullen. Thank you.”

x – X – x

Blood splattered across the sand.

Fenris had to admit to having a bit of a sick fascination with executions, but when he was _forced_ to watch them it was another matter. He was lounging in a comfy chair under a canopy, legs sprawled, head resting in his hand, and wishing he were somewhere other than in the hot sun.

The guard kicked the body, and it rolled off of the executioner’s stage. Unfurling his scroll, he shouted out the next name, and a dwarf was ushered towards the block.

Fenris held up his hand. A halt signal. And at once armor clattered as the guards around him rushed to carry out the order. The dwarf was laid with his neck against the block, and Fenris stood, making his way to the stairs which led to the stage. The executioner had only just placed his foot on the dwarf’s back when one of Fenris’ guards came up and tapped him on the shoulder.

Fenris stepped onto the stage, and held out his hand. “Give me the axe.”

The executioner made a confused grunt. “Y-your highness?”

Fenris yanked the axe out of his hands and pushed his chest to usher him aside. “If Danarius is going to force me to perform his duties I will at least practice my aim while I do so.”

Fenris rose the axe, all the while thinking how angry his father’s adviser would be when he arrived to dinner with his velvet clothes splattered in blood.

Then, a sandal dropped onto the dwarf’s back.

An eagle screeched, and six or so arrows were knocked onto bows. It took Fenris a second to actually tear his eyes away from the sandal, and look up to spy the eagle. A glint of blue shone in its eye as it made a sharp turn, and grew smaller by the second while it fled the scene.

Dumbstruck, he turned back to the sandal on the dwarf’s back, and stared.

“Sire, are you alright?” One of the guards ran forward, and stopped in his tracks when Fenris held up his hand again.

Leaning the axe upright, he knelt, and brought himself down to face the prisoner, “You, dwarf. What is your name?”

The dwarf turned, revealing a crooked nose that suggested he had at some point been punched in the face, “Varric Tethras, your highness. To what do I owe the honor?”

“What charges have brought you here?”

Varric wheezed a laugh, “That’s a story for the ages. How much time do you have?”

Fenris cocked an eyebrow, and waited. After three seconds, Varric took the hint and continued, “Look, you piss off the wrong people while gambling and they wind up thirsty for blood. Nobles pull strings. You know how it is.”

“Yes ...” Fenris hummed.

After another two second of silence, he stood, and thrust the axe back into the executioners hands. “Untie the dwarf and escort him to my office.”

“Y-yes, your highness.” The executioner stammered, and sprang to work.

Fenris picked up the sandal and descended the stairs.

An hour later, Fenris was lounging in his desk chair turning the sandal over in his hands, when there was a knock at the door. “Come in!” He called.

In came Varric, cuffed and escorted by two guards.

“Uncuff him and leave us.” Fenris ordered.

Albeit slowly, the guards obeyed, and shut the door behind them.

Fenris had not taken his eyes of the sandal in his hand the entire time. When they were alone, he finally held it up, and looked to Varric. “Do you recognize this sandal?”

Varric chuckled, “Trust me, if I could take credit for what happened out there, I would.”

“The eagle that dropped it … I’m sure I saw a glimmer in it’s eye. Like a spirit.”

Varric whistled, “A magic bird leaving you a shoe. Doesn’t happen every day. You think it means something?”

“It has to. Or at least, that’s what I’m going to tell people.”

“Pardon?” Varric cocked one eyebrow.

“You said you were a gambler, correct? Tell me, how is your acting?”

x – X – x

Anders was scrubbing the floors when Meredith approached him, her feet making an echoing stomp on the newly polished floor.

“Tell me something,” She said, “Why is it Cullen mentioned you were more concerned with your worthless cat than you were about our own livestock?”

Anders sighed, dunked the scrub brush into the bucket of soapy water, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes while he worked. “Cullen was checking on the chickens, and Pounce means a lot to me. He knows that, so-”

“So you let _him_ take care of _your_ duties when he should have been saving his energy for training.”

He took a deep breath. There wasn’t any arguing with her when she got like this. Setting down the scrub brush, he turned so he was facing her on his knees. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I’ll see to it that it doesn’t. I want that cat out of the house by tomorrow morning or else I’ll tie it up in a sack and throw it in the river.”

He jumped to his feet, heart in his throat. “You can’t be serious. Father loved Ser Pounce. I can’t-”

“Karl is dead.” Meredith snapped, her lips pursed into a thin line, “I didn’t marry a cat. See to it that that animal is gone or he’ll be fish food by this time tomorrow.”

x – X – x

Fenris knew who was at the door before he even heard the knock. “Come in!” He called without looking away from his wardrobe.

Danarius threw open the doors, robes flapping with the force, his face pinched into a scowl. “What’s this I hear about you going on a _quest_ , Fenris? Why are my guards reporting that you freed a prisoner sentenced to the _death penalty?_ ”

Opposite Fenris, Varric was lounging in a chair and reading a scroll twice as long as he was tall. He gave Danarius a small wave.

“ _Your_ guards?” Fenris asked, raising one eyebrow, “I appear to have missed the portion of my father’s will that granted you ownership of the castle calvary.”

For a brief second, Danarius’ lower eyelid twitched, and Fenris took immense pleasure in watching it happen. Danarius pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, obviously I didn’t mean it _literally_. But as Adviser to the Throne it is one of my duties to command the castle guard.”

“Not for much longer.” Fenris yanked a shirt off of its hanger and swiveled, “I am engaged.”

From the look on Danarius’ face, Fenris may as well have said he was turning into a dragon.

“T-to who!?”

“To the owner of this sandal, of course.” Fenris gestured towards the table Varric was sitting by, where the mud-caked sandal sat in defiant opposition to the silk pillow it had been placed on.

Varric tapped a line of the scroll he’d been reading, “There’s no law saying you have to have _met_ your fiance in order to marry them. Hell some cultures _encourage_ that sort of thing.”

“That is … true.” Danarius crossed his arms, glaring daggers at Varric while Fenris folded his shirt and stuffed it into a bag, “But I … doubt the people will trust a prince who bases his marriage off of a dirty shoe.”

“I will be King by the time they object to it.” Fenris continued, “Nevertheless, should they hear about how we met thanks to the blessing of a sacred eagle, I should think they wouldn’t hesitate to rally behind their new leader.”

“Sacred … eagle?”

Varric hopped off his chair and rolled up the scroll, “The bird that dropped that shoe was spirit-possessed. Ask anyone who was there. A couple meeting because a sacred bird stole a maiden’s shoe and carried it miles away to land in front of her true love? It’s a union blessed by the maker himself!”

“Almost storybook, wouldn’t you agree, Danarius?” Slowly, Fenris turned to meet Danairus’ eyes, “Don’t worry. In a matter of days you’ll be able to retire knowing that the kingdom is finally in the hands of its rightful heir.”

Danarius clasped his hands together and took a deep breath. “It’s … a very beautiful notion. However I am … concerned that you may not find your new spouse in time. Do you really have time to scour the globe before your next birthday?”

“Scouring the globe will not be necessary.” Fenris selected a few more shirts from his wardrobe and draped them over his arm, “I already had my tailor analyze the sandal. From the stitching and position of the straps, he swears it must have been made in the Free Marches. I intend to travel south to Kirkwall and send out word from there.”

“No maiden would turn down the chance to appear before a prince.” Varric added, “He’ll have people lining up for miles in no time.”

“Then ...” Danarius continued, “Please consider it my duty to accompany you on this quest.”

Fenris paused in his packing and gave Danarius a hard stare, “That will not be necessary. I am sure your duties here require far more attention.”

“Nonsense!” He scoffed, “I insist. After all, this is the kingdom’s future we’re talking about. No, I will appoint a member of the magisterium to command in my stead so that I may help you on this Maker-sent quest.”

There wasn’t room for another word. Danarius was already out the door, slamming it shut behind him. They remained silent until the sound of his footsteps disappeared.

Varric whistled, “You weren’t kidding about him.”

“Danarius will stop at nothing to take my birthright away from me. If I am not wed by my next birthday, he will convince the Magisterium to allow him to take my place.”

“Nothing like a deadline to light a fire under your ass, huh? What are you going to do if the person who owns that sandal doesn’t want to marry you?”

Fenris hummed while he stuffed his clothes into his bag, “I am hoping it will not come to that. If it does, I hope they will understand my position. As soon as I have been crowned king, they will be free to stay or leave as they please.”

“Well … best of luck, your Highness.”

Fenris gave him a warm smile, “You can call me Fenris, Varric. When this is over I’ll see to it that your crimes are pardoned.”

x– X – x

Two weeks had passed since Meredith’s threat, and Anders had seen to it that Pounce didn’t make an appearance anywhere near the house.

Not that it had been easy.

He was adding the finishing touches to dinner. Sprigs of parsley atop the roast, a splash of cream in Meredith’s tea. He pocketed the cream bottle, then added two sugars.

The tea was delivered to the dining room, in the midst of yet another of Meredith’s lectures. “I just don’t see why you want to waste perfectly good skills with the _city guard_ all things.” She scoffed, not even looking up when Anders set her cup down.

Cullen sighed, “I’m tired of being a Templar, Mother. The lyrium and the constant in-fighting are … exhausting. The guard is a way I can use my abilities while helping people.”

“How is guarding the circle not helping people?”

Anders left the room before Cullen could respond, and with a platter bearing three dishes. He set it in front of Meredith first, then Alistair and Cullen.

“It looks lovely, Anders. Thank you.” Alistair said. Anders managed a baggy-eyed smile in response.

Meredith picked up a fork and prodded at the pile of vegetables. “Are there onions in this? You know I hate onions.”

“No onions.” Anders replied, “Potatoes, celery, peppers, carrots. Garlic and salt for taste.”

Cullen continued even as the plate was set in front of him, “I’m constantly accused of receiving special treatment because you’re my mother. I can’t perform a single duty without someone whispering, ‘oh, he got off easy because the knight-commander is his mother.’ but if I accept hard labor suddenly they’re saying, ‘he must have done something at home to anger mommy’.”

“So ignore them! That’s what I do. Your abilities should speak for themselves.” Meredith replied.

Anders left and returned later with a cake and three plates. “I have to put out the fires in the stove so I’m setting out desert now. If I leave it in the kitchen, it will freeze.”

“ _Thank you, Anders.”_ Meredith sneered through clenched teeth, “You are dismissed.”

He couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

He put out the fire in the stove, served his own portion of food on a wood plate (Meredith didn’t permit him to use the silver dishes), tucked a water skin under his shirt, and ducked out through the kitchen door.

Past the pig’s pen and through the cattle field, into the woods and past a series of trees with ribbons tied around them, rested a clearing where Anders still had memories of holding picnics and playing with his father. Now it held only a grave.

They’d buried him under his favorite tree, marked by a gravestone with lovingly carved words.

KARL THEKLA

HUSBAND – FATHER – FRIEND

And behind the grave, in a little alcove at the base of the tree, Anders had set out a bowl of water, a little saucer, and a plate. He’d lined the base of the hole with old blankets, and drove a nail into one wall where he tied a string that led to a homemade harness that wrapped around Ser Pounce’s chest.

He’d tried it without the leash at first, but Pounce had showed up in his room the next night. It was only by pure luck that he’d managed to get the cat back out before Meredith saw. He couldn’t risk that happening again, so here Pounce was. Tied up and no doubt hating Anders for it.

The cat didn’t even look up when he poured cream into the saucer, or filled up his bowl from the water skin, or tore up his portion of the roast into bite-sized chunks and set them on the plate.

“Pounce?” Anders tried, but there was no response. Just the silhouette of the cat curled into a ball inside it’s makeshift shelter.

Anders sat back on his haunches and sighed. His plate was still next to him, a measly serving of roast vegetables that he couldn’t even look at without feeling a pit in his stomach. Why shouldn’t Pounce hate him for this? He didn’t understand that it was for his own good … all he knew was that his master had left him tied up outside with winter fast approaching.

A shadow was being cast by Karl’s tombstone, but that was never where he felt Karl’s presence anyway. When he looked up, he could see a ribbon on one of the branches. Karl had to hold him on his shoulders to tie it up there. The tree had grown with him, and as Anders grew up the ribbon only grew further away.

“What am I supposed to do?” He choked.

He hugged himself, shivering against the cold breeze that swept through the clearing. Holding up shaking hands, he summoned a little fire in his palms. Meredith didn’t permit him to have a staff. This was the most he could do without anything to use as a focus point.

Magic made him feel closer to his father. Even if they had to hide and practice their magic deep in the woods, even if Meredith complained loudly about the indignity of marrying into an apostate family, Anders felt immense joy in casting spells whenever he could. He mended wounds the chickens got from pecking one another and more than once erased the evidence of Cullen and Alistair’s rougher training sessions.

His father used to dance with magic. Oh, how they both loved to dance.

Anders rose, and made his way to the center of the clearing, flame still in hand. Unwrapping his arms from himself, he summoned a flame in the opposite palm.

He danced.

When he moved his arms, it drew shapes in the night air with the fires. His feet stepped to the beat in his head. One-two-three, one-two-three, while his hands drew swirls and waves in the air.

A bush rustled.

He jumped, extinguishing the flames right away. “Pounce?” He whispered, then ran to the far side of the tree. Another fire in his palm had his eyes widening in panic. His worst nightmare come true. The lump he’d mistaken for Pounce’s silhouette was a fold in the blankets. The leash led only to a chewed-through end.

Pounce was gone.

“Maker no.” He breathed, rising to his feet and swiveling towards the tree line.

“Pounce!” He called, summoning a wisp of fire to his palm.

Another shuffle came from the foliage, and Anders darted towards it. “Pounce!”

When he pushed past the bushes, he saw an elf.

The fire in his palm illuminated snowy white hair and dark skin. He was wearing armor unlike any Anders had ever seen, spiked gauntlets and pauldrons custom-cut to fit his body. His arms were bare, revealing swirling tattoos that matched the ones creeping up his neck.

He had an orange tabby in his arms.

“I … apologize.” The elf said, then held out Pounce, “Is this your cat?”

“Pounce!” Anders breathed, extinguishing his spell so he could take the cat. Pounce gave an indignant _mrow_ as he was hugged, “What am I going to do with you?” Letting Pounce settle into a crook in his arms, he nuzzled his fur and stroked his neck.

“I have never seen a leash-trained cat.”

Anders was pulled from his little world by the mystery elf’s words. The elf glanced down at the harness on Pounce’s back.

“Oh, he’s not-” Anders felt his cheeks grow hot, “He doesn’t walk on the leash he’s just … on it. Right now.”

“A bit cold for him, is it not?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine … should be. I hope. He can’t be at home right now, I don’t have … much of a choice.”

The elf tilted his head, summoning to mind the image of a curious bird.

“If … Pounce, was it? If Pounce is in need of a place to stay, I may be able to accommodate. If only for a little while.”

Anders felt a tidal wave over emotions over the span of one second. Relief that this stranger would offer to care for Pounce followed by realization that he didn’t know this person, then fear, suspicion, and guilt.

“I couldn’t ask that of you, we only just met.”

“Well then, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Fenris.”

Fenris held out his hand. After shuffling Pounce to be in one arm, Anders accepted his handshake. “Anders. You already know Ser Pounce-a-Lot.”

“Yes. He greeted me during my nighttime stroll and led me to a rather beautiful dance show.”

 _That_ made Anders turned a shade of strawberry pink. “Oh you … you saw that?”

“I didn’t mean to spy.”

“It’s not that, I ...” He trailed off. He felt his heart in his throat. Had he seen the magic? Why wasn’t he saying anything about it? Was he biding his time so he could report Anders in the morning? Why not just get it over with now? He’d be thrown in the circle, Meredith would be disgraced, his father’s estate would be sold, and his step brothers would be thrown in the street by this time tomorrow.

“Never have I seen it’s equal.” Fenris continued.

In his panic, Anders had squeezed his eyes shut. When Fenris’ words sank in, he opened them to meet forest green eyes, glistening in the moonlight.

“In Tevinter, magic is a source of power. My father always found it tragic that I was not born a mage. His adviser suggested the use of these.” He removed one of the gauntlets and ran his hand over the tattoos on his arms. They stretched all the way across his hands to the tips of his fingers, “They were the most painful experience of my life. The process burned away my memories. The first thing I remember is being told that my father passed away while I was recovering.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Fenris shrugged, and replaced the gauntlet on his hand. “Apologies. I shouldn’t burden you with my life story. What I wanted to say was … I’ve never seen magic used to create something so beautiful. Would you show me again?”

Anders hadn’t looked away from those eyes, though now he noticed the subtle way in which Fenris’ cheeks had darkened. Was he _blushing_?

“Well … alright.” He decided aloud.

Going back to the clearing, he set Pounce down next to his dinner. Once he was satisfied that the cat would stay there and eat, he moved to the center of the clearing, and summoned a flame in either hand.

Fenris leaned against a tree, watching Anders’ light dance draw shapes in the night air. Twists and swirls of light, illuminating dust motes so that it looked like the stars had descended to dance with him. Anders could hear the tune in his head. His father’s humming, counting one-two-three one-two-three so his feet would move in time to the rhythm.

He only stopped when his hand was snagged, and the flame extinguished as Fenris pulled him close, their hips flush.

“May I cut in?” Fenris asked.

Fenris dipped him, and Anders let his weight fall onto Fenris’ arms. He realized now, as the muscles in Fenris’ arms bunched to catch him, he must be an accomplished warrior. Fenris took the lead, swinging Anders around and stepping him into a silent waltz. Anders knew the beat even with neither of them saying it. One-two-three, one-two-three. The way Fenris’ armor was built for him allowed for very little space between the two. They could feel one another’s body heat.

Hands on Anders’ hip, Fenris lifted him into the air, and set him back down on his feet. Anders found himself grinning as he was dipped again, fingers interlacing with Fenris’. In one smooth motion, Fenris leaned down and kissed him.

Sighing, Anders gleefully allowed Fenris to capture his lips. Fingers tangled into blonde hair, Anders’ hand cupped Fenris’ cheek. Their lips parted to a hair’s width apart. They could feel one another’s breath.

Then, a dog barked.

It didn’t phase Fenris, but Anders recognized the sound of Alistair’s mabari, followed by shouting. He couldn’t make out words, but the pitch and tone were none other than Meredith’s.

“Oh no.” He breathed, then pushed Fenris off of him, “I have to go!”

Fenris spent a moment dumbstruck, enough time for Anders to push away and start running. As he went, he only barely made out Fenris calling, “Wait, when will I see you again?”

But he couldn’t turn back. He had to keep running. He left Fenris alone in their clearing without another word.

x – X – x

Fenris was laying on his back, with Pounce on his stomach. His eyes drifted in the general direction of the ceiling, but every time he closed them he could see the starry sky that bathed Anders while they had danced. Every so often, he would absentmindedly stroke the cat. _Anders_ cat. The cat with a name as cute as Anders’ little button nose.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He ushered the cat off him, and opened the door to Varric.

During their trip, Danarius had complained loudly about the prison rags Varric was stuck in after his sudden departure from the headman’s block. A representative of the royal family should _look_ the part, after all. Varric seemed to have take the advice, as he stood before Fenris in laced leather pants and matching leather gloves, a red velvet jacket lined with spun gold, and a wool tunic that was _just_ a little _too_ unbuttoned.

“What do you think?” Varric asked, holding his arms out.

Fenris stroked his chin and nodded, “I can see why you managed to rub elbows with nobles.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what kind of people I can rub elbows with, Prince Broody.” Varric winked and nudged his side, “But we’re getting off topic. Adviser Control Freak wanted me to fetch you for the meeting.”

“Best not to let Danarius hear that nickname.” Fenris fetched a cloak off the hook, and then shut the door behind him. He tied it on and tugged the hood up while he walked.

“Trust me, I’ve heard the staff call him worse on a daily basis.”

They both snickered, then quickly fell silent as the left the cabin. Danarius was already in his private carriage at the front, arm resting on the window sill and fingers drumming impatiently. Fenris nodded to him as he passed, then stepped into the carriage behind him. With a mock salute at the adviser, Varric followed suit. Danarius signaled the driver, and the caravan was off.

In their efforts to keep a low profile, they’d rented a cabin in the castle’s shadow where they could easily post as many guards as they wanted. Fenris didn’t see much of a point in it if the entourage was going to announce their presence anyway. Already, common folk walking along the side of the road stopped and gaped at the ornate carriages and warriors on horses which bore saddles in the colors of the Tevinter flag. The city gate opened for them, and villagers stretched their necks out of their windows to catch a look at the procession.

Fenris found himself searching the crowd that was gathering, hoping to catch a head of strawberry blonde hair. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could clearly picture Anders’ face. High cheekbones, whiskey warm eyes, dimples at the edge of his smile. He was sure he could pick him out of the crowd.

“Why your highness, you look positively … glowing.” Varric said, “Something on your mind?”

“I was just looking for someone.”

“Someone special?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, I highly doubt you can get a good look at their feet from in here.” Varric said, making Fenris’ ears droop. It suddenly sank in that they were looking for someone specific. Whoever fit the sandal was meant to be his new spouse. Even if he found Anders … what would he say?

He sank back into the carriage, and stayed there until it came to a halt in front of the castle. The driver opened their door to an entourage of guards surrounding a man in green velvet who could only be Kirkwall’s Viscount.

“Prince Fenris of Tevinter!” He shook Fenris’ hand, then turned to Danarius as he stepped out of his carriage, “And you must be Adviser Danarius.”

“I am.” Danarius replied, shaking his hand, “I trust you received our message?”

“I did, but you must be exhausted from your trip. Come inside, we can make arrangements over tea.”

Fenris followed, keeping a close eye on Danarius all the while. A smaller group of guards cut themselves off from the rest of the group and accompanied them, two of them even positioning themselves along the wall while the trio of nobles (and Varric) settled into a sitting room.

“First, I believe introductions are in order.” The Viscount said, “I’m Viscount Marlowe Dumar, this is my captain of the guard, Aveline, and her trainee, Cullen.”

The red-haired guardswoman bowed, and the blonde man behind her scrambled to follow suit.

“A pleasure.” Fenris said, nodding at him, “Has Viscount Dumar told you why we’re here?”

“No, sir.” Aveline replied.

Fenris gestured at Varric, who produced a silk-wrapped package from his jacket pocket. Untying the folds unveiled the sandal, almost as dirty as it was the day he’d found it. Cullen gave a tiny gasp, then stood at attention.

“This sandal was given to me by a spirit-touched eagle. I have taken it as a divine sign that I am to wed whoever it belongs to, even if I have to try it on every foot in the kingdom.”

“Say no more!” The Viscount said, “I’ll send word to the town criers at once. We shall organize a formal ball where you can-”

“That will not be fast enough.”

In complete unison, Danarius and the Viscount gaped at Fenris. “I’m sorry?” Danarius said with a cough.

“A formal meeting would take too much time to organize. Tell the town criers I intend to visit every house myself. If I do not find the sandal’s owner here, I will move on to the next town. I won’t stop until I find them.”

x – X – x

Cullen came home and went directly to the kitchen, where he found Anders doubled over the sink scrubbing out a frying pan.

“Anders!” He called, and Anders turned with a start, revealing a dark half-circle under one eye.

Cullen stopped halfway through the room, covering his mouth.

“Oh, Anders, what did she-”

“It’s fine.” Anders interjected, “My fault. I shouldn’t have snuck out last night. You heard her. That coyote wouldn’t have gotten into the chicken coop if it weren’t for me.”

Anders flinched when Cullen set a hand on his shoulder, head down so that his hair was covering the bruise. “You need to get out of here.” Cullen whispered, “It’s not safe for you.”

“You know it’s not that simple.”

“It might be. I met with the visiting dignitaries today. Once of them is a prince. He’s looking to make a spouse of whoever fits the sandal he found.”

Anders cocked an eyebrow, lips pursed. “Why not a ring? Seems a bit unromantic to use a sandal.”

“It’s _your_ sandal, Anders. Prince Fenris is looking for _you_.”

That left Anders’ eyes wide as saucers, blood rushing to redden his face. “ _Prince_ Fen-” He covered his mouth.

“Yes, so if you just go to him-”

“NO!” His breathing grew heavy.

“Why? I saw the sandal. It’s the same one that eagle made off with, and Prince Fenris even said an eagle dropped it on him.”

Anders made an incoherent squeak. How was he supposed to explain that he couldn’t meet with the prince because he’d spent last night dancing in the woods while the chickens were being slaughtered? Meredith would kill him. “I just can’t, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Yes, Anders, why not?” A sly voice hissed from the doorway.

Cullen swiveled to see Meredith, leaning on the door frame with hard eyes glaring daggers at Anders.

“Tell me, Anders,” She repeated, stepping into the room, “Why can’t you meet with your prince?”

“It …” He struggled to find the words, shaking more and more with each agonizing step she took towards him, “Just wouldn’t be proper. I’m not worthy of a prince.”

She snagged his chin, sharp nails digging into his cheeks, forcing him to look at her.

“You’re lying.”

Without warning, she grabbed his neck and slammed his back against the wall. _“Mother!_ Stop it!” Cullen called. Anders’ hands shot to her fingers. He reached for a spell, only to find his mana rapidly draining under her templar abilities.

“Don’t let him fool you!” She spat at Cullen before turning her attention back to Anders, “I found the tracks leading out to your father’s grave and the boot prints there. How long have you been conspiring against me?”

“I … haven’t.” Anders choked, eyes watering.

“Liar! I don’t know what you and that accursed Tevinter prince are planning but you won’t get away with it!”

Fist in his shirt, she dragged him out of the kitchen before Cullen could react further. Anders could barely hear Cullen calling from the bottom of the stairs as he was dragged up to the second, and then third floor, and then was finally thrown into his bedroom at the top of one of the manor towers. He landed ungracefully against the dresser. A throbbing pain in his back would leave another bruise later. Throwing himself to his feet, he barely made it to the door in time to hear the click of the lock from the outside.

x – X – x

Fenris spent the whole of the trip to the cabin with Danarius _seething_. Not that he had stopped seething all day, but when their search turned fruitless and night had fallen, he grew disturbingly fidgety. Fenris had never been more grateful for the fact that Danarius insisted on a private carriage.

When Fenris stepped outside, there stood Danarius, arms crossed and foot tapping. Fenris did his best to ignore him and retreated immediately to his room, Varric following not far behind him. He was just hanging his cloak on the hook when Danarius threw the door open.

Fenris steeled his face and stared while Danarius spat, “Just what is the meaning behind embarrassing me in front of the Viscount!?”

“Now, Adviser,” Varric said, “There’s not need to be _angry-”_

“ _Silence_ , dwarf! You should have been worm food by now!” He turned back to the dead panned Fenris and jabbed a finger into his chest, “Refusing a noble’s offer for aid, bending down in front of every commoner’s dirty feet, dragging the royal procession into the most disgusting parts of town. Just what in Andraste’s name do you think we are? Immigrants from a savage tribe of foot-worshipers?”

Fenris had his lips pursed tight. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before replying, “The time it would take to plan and execute a ball would be ultimately wasted. Even if it managed to attract anyone other than nobility, by the time the party would be held, my birthday will have already passed, meaning-”

“Meaning _I_ would assume control of the kingdom, as it should be!”

Fenris turned to retort, and was immediately struck with a mind blast spell that sent him flying backwards until his back hit the wall opposite the door. Dazed from the attack, he didn’t react to Danarius approaching him until the adviser reached into his shirt’s inner pocket and pulled the sandal out.

“A shame you couldn’t find your love before the accident.” Danarius growled, “I’ll be sure to let the viscount know his town criers should spread word of Prince Fenris’ tragic death.” Fenris looked on in terror as he walked away. Varric, also hit by the spell, was on the ground just two meters away. Fenris jumped to his feet as the door was closing, and reached the doorknob in time to hear the click of the lock.

Danarius pocketed the key and made his way to the cabin’s living room, where one of their guards was standing by the entrance. “Our prince wishes to be left alone after today’s failure. Tell your men they have the night off to explore the town, and don’t return until morning.”

Without question, the guard left, Danarius following close behind him. He waited on the porch until the guard had disappeared. A quick fire spell lit the silk covering the sandal like a torch, and he tossed into a leaf pile beside the house, where the dry autumn leaves quickly caught aflame.

With that, Danarius left.

x- X - x

Anders threw his dresser over and kicked it until. Once, twice, and on the third kick with a loud _CRACK_ one of the boards broke off. Picking it up, he whacked the door knob with all his might. Once, twice, thrice, until the board cracked in his hands. Scoffing, he threw it aside, then pounded on the door.

“HEY!” He screamed, then jiggled and yanked the door knob again, “LET ME OUT!”

His pounding slowed as his arms grew tired, fists red and sore, “ALISTAIR! CULLEN!” He cried, slowly slumping against the door until eventually, he sank completely, defeated hands flopping to his sides.

“… anyone?” He choked.

There was an eagle’s screech outside.

Kicking aside a pile of clothes as he went, Anders ran to the window and leaned outside. Barely visible against the stars, he spied the eagle’s shadow high above him. “Hey!” He shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “You got me into this mess! Your job is to get me out!”

The eagle passed over the full moon, a perfect silhouette with a tiny glimmer at its feet. As it passed above Anders, he watched the glimmer drop from its talons and rapidly fall. Leaning a little further out, he was just barely able to catch the clear crystal.

“That … was not what I expected.”

He ducked back inside. It was a largely raw, unpolished piece of quartz with a flat bottom where it might have once been been stuck atop a staff. His eyes widened with sudden realization. The primary component of a staff … what helped mages focus … was the crystal. He couldn’t exactly use it for melee like he could a staff, but maybe …

Crystal in one hand and opposite hand flat on the door, he focused his mana, and cast a fireball spell which burned a massive hole in the center of the door. The fireball dissipated against the staircase wall, scorching the stone.

Anders made it two steps out the door before he stopped, turned back into his room, and reached under his bed to grab the lone sandal there. After pocketing it, he ran downstairs.

He passed Meredith’s room first, stopped, and tapped the lock with one finger. A layer of ice gathered starting at the doorknob, eventually freezing around the frame. As he turned to continue down the hall, he was met face-to-face with Alistair. Anders froze, clutching the crystal close to his chest, eyes widened.

Alistair’s eyes darted to the crystal, then the door, then back to Anders.

“Go.” Alistair said, jerking his head to the hallway behind him, “Cullen told me everything. I’ll keep her off your trail.”

If there was time for a thank you, or a hug, or any exchange between them, it wasn’t allowed, as Alistair quickly stepped behind him and pushed him further down the hall. Anders didn’t need any more coaxing, and took off in a sprint.

He was intent on running into town, to the castle, and made it to the edge of the property before he stopped at a familiar sight. Pounce padded out of a thicket and stopped in front of him, meeting his eyes. After a second of staring, the cat turned and padded away, making it a few meters before stopping again and looking over his shoulder at Anders.

Unsure of what was possessing him, he followed Pounce.

x - X - x

Varric was kneeling in front of the door, and cursed under his breath when the lock pick broke in his hands. Fenris was pacing from one end of the room to the other. Varric reached into his pocket and produced a second pick. “He sure doesn’t mess around with locks, does he?” Varric grumbled.

A scent made Fenris pause his pacing. Tilting his head up, he sniffed. “Do you smell smoke?”

Varric sniffed the air. “He wouldn’t ...” Looking down, he discovered tendrils of smoke already creeping up under the door.

“Of course he would!” Fenris balled up his fist and punched the wall, “ _Fasta vaas …_ I can phase through the walls, but-”

“Phase through, then. Better than burning to a crisp.”

“I’m not leaving you here!”

He made his way to the window and gave it a yank. It was jammed with only a tiny gap, which had been barely enough room for Pounce to squeeze through and escape. It stayed stubbornly stuck. Orange light was cast on the trees outside.

Footsteps outside the door made Varric pause and Fenris turn around. A fist pounded against wood. “Fenris?” Anders’ voice called.

“Anders!” Fenris ran to the door, pressing his palm against it.

“Thank the maker … step away from the door, I’m getting you out.”

Fenris and Varric did as they were told. A black mark formed in the center of the door and quickly spread, burning red in the center. Fenris spent a split second terrified that the fire had reached them until the door burst open and Anders stepped through, his shirt collar tugged up over his mouth. The second the couple laid eyes on each other, they fell into each others arms. Fenris tugged Anders’ shirt away to give him the most passionate, grateful kiss he’d ever had, pulling back only so he could admire the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life. Anders wore a huge smile, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Varric cleared his throat, “Uh, boys? Think we can save that for later?”

Anders had carved a tunnel with ice spells, but it was rapidly melting. Crystal clutched tight in his hand, he led the way back out with bursts of frost extinguishing any fire in their way. They stumbled out gasping, none of them stopping until Anders doubled over coughing with his hand braced against the fence. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Anders?” Fenris asked, patting his back.

“I’m fine,” He gasped, “Too much smoke, that’s all.”

A shadow passed in the corner of Fenris’ eye. Danarius came up behind Anders, and Fenris barely shoved him out of the way in time for an ice spike to lodge into his arm. Fenris cried in pain, clutching the arm, while Danarius approached, staff in hand.

“Why. Won’t. You. DIE?” And with the last punctuated word, he cast a cone of ice spikes which spread out from where he stood, stopped inches away from Fenris by a barrier.

Anders stood, hand out, glaring at Danarius as the ice cracked and fell off of the barrier. “I don’t know who you are.” Anders said, “But you stay away from him.”

“Who I am?” Danarius shouted, “I’m the greatest magister who ever lived! I’m the future king of Tevinter!”

“Hey, future king of Tevinter,” Varric called, drawing a dagger, “Catch.” And with that threw the dagger so that it lodged itself in Danarius’ arm. He staggered, giving Anders the opening to cast mind blast and knock the staff out of his weakened grip. While Anders scrambled to take the staff from him, Fenris stood, and approached Danarius. The markings on his arm activated, turning his hand a ghostly transparent blue. In one smooth motion, he thrust it into Danarius’ chest and hoisted the magister into the air.

“You,” He growled as blood bubbled out of Danarius’ mouth, “Are no king.” And with a sickening crunch, Danarius’ heart was crushed in his hand.

Danarius fell into a crumpled heap on the ground. Fenris flicked the blood off his hand, and turned to face Anders.

Anders ran up and embraced him. “Oh Fenris,” Anders breathed, “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“As I am for you, Anders.” Fenris returned the embrace with a tight squeeze, “How did you find me?”

Huffing laugh, Anders pulled back just enough to look at Fenris, “It was Pounce. He led me here.”

With a _mrow_ to announce himself, Pounce rubbed up against Varric’s leg, and Varric gave the cat a scratch on his neck. “Smart cat.” He mused, “Shame about the sandal, though. So much for your Maker-sent fiance.”

“That’s … actually why I’m here.” Reaching into his pocket, Anders produced a familiar shoe. The second half to the one Danarius stole, “I have the other sandal.”

Fenris stared, green eyes wide, mouth agape. It took three seconds for his mouth to tug upwards, and a few giggles escaped while he ran his hand through his hair. “Maker ...” He breathed.

Anders’ cheeks turned bright red, “W-was it wrong? Cullen told me-”

“No, no!” Fenris set his hand on Anders’, covering the sandal, “It’s perfect. It’s meant to be. It’s just not what I was expecting.”

Fenris closed the gap between them for a quick kiss, and Anders’ eyes fluttered shut to bathe in the moment. When they parted, Fenris brushed a lock of hair behind Anders’ ear.

“Anders, I would be honored if you would marry me.”

Smiling, eyes glazed with tears, Anders choked, “Yes! Absolutely.”

“Hey now,” Varric interrupted, nodding at the sandal between them, “Make it official, Prince Broody.”

Taking the sandal from Anders’ hands, Fenris knelt. Anders lifted up one foot, allowing Fenris to remove his shoe and fit the sandal on in its place. It was the perfect fit. When Fenris stood again, they embraced and kissed.

Their wedding was held the following spring. With the threat of Danarius gone, they had more time to plan a proper ceremony. Anders had sent an invitation to his old home, receiving back a letter of congratulations and the news that Meredith had perished while performing her templar duties. Cullen and Alistair attended the wedding, bringing with them several assurances that they were taking good care of the old estate. The kingdom sang praises of the holy couple, brought together in the holiest of ways. Pounce spent the rest of his life in the lap of luxury, free to wander the halls of Fenris and Anders’ castle.

And they all lived happily ever after.


End file.
